


Masks Hiding Masks

by StrangerInAStrangeWorld



Series: Divine Masquerade [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Original Characters present, Visoredcentric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerInAStrangeWorld/pseuds/StrangerInAStrangeWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They live in the Court of Pure Souls, but that life has just become a lie. Shinji Hirako and his friends are no longer pure. They are something other, something... Hollow. And Shinji is no fool—he knows that unless he can find a way to prove Aizen's treachery, he will be the one condemned. As Aizen grows closer to his goals and the beast within grows stronger every day, can Shinji bring the true monster to justice before his takes over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Donning the Masks

Kensei is a good captain. Sure, he's a harsh taskmaster, but he doesn't get in fights all the time like Kenpachi, isn't occasionally irresponsible like Shihoin, and has too much concern for his liver to drink with Kyouraku and Rose.

So for the life of him, Kensei has no idea why last night is a blur of shadows, shouts, and swords.

He must've gone back on his vow to not drink with Kyouraku. That must be it, Kensei decides as he releases a mighty yawn. It's a strangely distorted, muffled sound, and the Ninth Division's captain finds out why when he goes to rub the sleep from his eyes and meets smooth, ice-cold bone.

 _Hollow._  As quick as the thought occurs to him, Kensei dismisses it. He is a grown man, not some child to jump at every shadow.  _Impossible._

He tries to sit up and finds that it's an awkward movement, muscles straining in ways they shouldn't. Kensei's fingers, now shaking, discover two rectangular holes above each eye, his own eyes looking out of identical slits. Was it some kind of costume party? Weird party, but maybe not for Kyouraku. The stories of what his colleague and friend had gotten up to were legendary, particularly the one involving three pastel-dyed tanuki and a couple dozen defaced orchards of cherry blossom trees.

The confusion turns to a sort of dawning horror as exploring fingers discover rods of the same smooth bone sticking out from his shoulders, arms, and back. Not fused to his skin, or glued there, but embedded deep within. Like a Hollow. Nausea twists his stomach.  _This can't be happening, this isn't happening!_

Kensei fumbles with the mask covering his face, finally hooking his fingers beneath its lower edges and tearing at it frantically, desperation numbing the pain as patches of skin tear off with the mask. As he rips the mask off, sending it skittering onto the floor in front of him, the rods of bone protruding from his body shatter. A high-pitched ringing in Kensei's ears blocks out all sound but the dripping of blood.

There's no doubt about it. The blood-splashed mask in front of him is a Hollow's mask with proportions that would never fit a Hollow's face, only a human one.

"We-ell, someone finally woke up. Gotcher mask off, too." He nearly screams, head jerking up to find Shinji standing right in front of him, lazy grin gone for once. "Mashiro sent me ta wake ya up, y'know. Thought I might haveta break that creepy little souvenir, too."

Kensei's stomach drops as if he's in one of those living-world moving rooms. Shinji's right there. He's right there and he's not freaked out or scared. And as Kensei's memories start to clear, it's obvious that he attacked his friends, Shinji and Love and Rose and Lisa and Hiyori and Hachigen and Mashiro was right there attacking them too but what happened?

 _Focus, Kensei. Deal with this one step at a time. Find out what happened first and stop with this idiotic freak-out. Captains don't act that way._ You _don't act that way._

It's then that the Ninth Division's captain realizes that the blond is extending a hand to him expectantly.

"C'mon, Kensei. Can't have ya bleedin' over Urahara's nice clean floor. Well," he glances around at their surroundings, "mostly clean, anyway."

He takes the offered hand, hauling himself up as his back protests. Up close to the Fifth Division's captain, Kensei notices dried blood encrusted on his face and hands. _What?_

Shinji catches Kensei's look with a roll of his eyes. "It's a long story, but let's say that ya weren't the only one to wake up with a mask."

At that moment, someone tackles the scowling man from behind, squealing, "Keenseeii! You got a funny mask too! Now you and Shinji and I can be a club and we can eat bean buns at our meetings!"

"Geroff, Mashiro!" He blurts reflexively, confirming it when he twists around to see a short mop of green hair and a woman's wide-eyed face beaming up at him.

Kensei's lieutenant pouts as she releases him. "Don't be such a meany, Kensei. Bean buns are delicious! I don't see why you never want any!" Kuna Mashiro exclaims, stopping suddenly and putting her index finger to her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if Urahara-taicho has any bean paste around here? Or is it just all these boring science thingies?"

"Boring? You wound me, Kuna-chan." The man in question says from the doorway, leaning on the frame as he shuts the door behind him. "I'm afraid I don't have any bean paste, though. These dreadfully long hours keep me without any time to go buy some." Urahara sighs theatrically. "Good to see you up, Mugurama-san." His expression turns serious. "We'll need to wake up the others soon if we're to have a proper cover story fabricated before someone comes looking for you."

Glancing around, Kensei is stunned to see that there are others lying around the dank little room. A dark-haired figure that looks like Lisa is sprawled on the floor with a diamond-shaped mask, fingers touching Hachigen's elbow as he lies there wearing what looks like a tusked demon-mask. Across the room, a long-beaked bird mask covers Rose's face and nearly distracts the Ninth Squad Captain from the much smaller Hiyori, whose usual scowl is obscured by a horned mask with diamonds above her eye. Love is halfway under a table, but enough of him is visible that Kensei can see an oni-like mask.

They all have Hollow masks. Every single one. What did Urahara do this time? It has to be Urahara; no one else could pull something like this off. Some part of Kensei wants to think that Urahara created person-sized masks for each one of them as a joke, because he can't process the idea that it might not be a joke, that the captains and lieutenants of the Gotei 13 might have become the monsters they fight.

Kensei whirls, jaw clenched. "Urahara. What did you do to us? I thought you were a captain, you psycho! You've taken these experiments too far!"

Shinji puts his hand on Kensei's shoulder, shakes his head. "Then ya really are amnesiac? This ain't Urahara's doin', fer once. It's that rat bastard Aizen's. I _knew_ he'd try something, knew it, why didn't I-?" The blond's features tighten as he shakes his head. For a brief moment Kensei imagines that he sees something primal flicker behind Shinji's eyes, but it's gone when he looks again.

Kensei's breath hitches in his throat. "Aizen? Your lieutenant? I remember- I think I remember that bastard Tosen slicing me up, but not Aizen." He frowns sharply, shaking his head. "We can't be Hollows. No holes, not mindless, not soul-eating, Shinigami form. Impossible."

A scrabbling sound comes from Hiyori's corner of the room, and with a crack and the splash of blood, she sits up and scowls. "Hollows? What're ya talkin' 'bout, Kensei? Don't tell me you're bein' a dickhead like Shinji."

Said 'dickhead' releases a sigh that someone could've mistaken for one of relief. "I don't pretend to be knowin' how the science is that turned us back, but the short version is that we spent last night as Hollows. Might've spent the rest of our lives that way if it weren't fer Urahara bustin' out some tech to save our asses, mostly."

"Mostly!" Hiyori demands, stiffening. Kensei can see her pupils dilate, nearly blotting out amber. _Scared,_ a part of him recognizes. "Do it all the way, you lazy idiot!"

"I can't." Urahara says bluntly, standing up straight and entering the room fully. "You're never going to be fully Shinigami again. I'm sorry, Sarugaki-san. Now that you've shattered the border between Shinigami and Hollow, there's no way to go back. It was all I could do to keep you sane and in human form."

The blood drains from Hiyori's face. "But-you mean I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life?"

He nods. "It's really as they say at Shin'o. 'No soul, upon becoming a Hollow, can return to normal,'" he quotes. The rest of the quote, 'Only through being slain by a Zanpakuto may they be restored' hangs in the air. The scientist holds up a hand to forestall any more questions. "No more questions for now, please. I need to get these masks off before someone comes in for work."

Numbly they set to work, prying off their friends' masks. Lisa grabs Urahara's wrist and pins him to the ground when he gets within a few inches of her face, mumbling an apology when she realizes that he isn't Kyouraku and ripping her mask off with surprising force. Kensei handles Rose's mask, noting with just a little bit of bitterness that the resident drama queen- or king, he supposes- actually does smell of sake. Hiyori opts to simply slam the hilt of her sword into Love's face, cracking the mask enough for it to fall off.

"You're wrong," Lisa whispers hoarsely when she's awake enough to understand their words. "You don't know that we aren't back to normal."

Love is grey with shock, but he shakes his head. "Urahara-san wouldn't lie. Not to us. Would you?" The pleading glance he sends Urahara's way is all but begging him to say that he would. Kensei knows that he would _—_ he's ex-Onmitsukidou, lying was his lifeblood not so long ago _—_ but everything in the man's body, from hunched shoulders to the way he can't meet anyone's gaze, says that he is telling the truth now. _ _  
__

To the surprise of everyone, Rose is handling his condition the best, besides Shinji, and Kensei figures that Shinji had his chance to freak out already. Even so, Rose's legs are shaking and his knees are locked so tight that it wouldn't be a surprise if he passed out. _Fear,_ that part of him from before mutters.  _Fear of what-is, what-could-be, wants what-isn't._ "Perhaps we should seek the help of Unohana-senpai," he suggests gently. "You say that it's an infection of sorts? She  _is_ experienced in these matters."

"And she's thick as thieves with Yama-jii." Shinji cuts off that avenue of conversation quickly. "She'll smile and promise to keep it a secret, then turn around and tell the old man." He casts a glance around the room. "He locks up _nobles_ just for thinkin' different and throws away the key. Ya think he'll just nod and say, 'Let's see what can be done about this problem' and go about settin' up nice fair trials? No way in hell. To him we'll be nothin' more than Hollows that walk an' talk like people. 'Sides, we ain't got no proof that it was Aizen."

 "But you did say that you saw him, did you not?" Hachi asks, breaking his considering silence. "As did Kido Chief Tsukabishi and Captain Urahara? Surely the testimony of the Grand Kido Chief, an unaffected captain, and the captain overseeing the criminal in question would be taken into account?" Trust Hachi to say the simplest things in the most words. Kensei rolls his eyes, then suppresses a grimace as the action hurts. Hell, his whole head hurts like one of those giant gatekeepers took to whaling on it.

"But I'm-" Shinji makes a sweeping gesture across his face, the gesture clearly meant to mimic a mask. "An' Tessai helped Urahara slip out when he knew he weren't supposed to, plus he did forbidden Kido to get here an' he ain't somebody Yama-jii knows and trusts much anyway. Urahara left the Court when he was forbidden to and used tech that probably ain't on the approved list to do it, the kind that he coulda done who knows what else with. Then there's the matter of him usin' that magic marble to change us back when he coulda been the one usin' it the other way and killin' all those people in the first place." Shinji shakes his head, heavy with blond hair. "That's if ya  _don't_ get inta Aizen havin' an illusion Zanpakuto, and the possibility of him gettin' Tousen to pin the murders of Kensei's unit on Kensei-"

"I would  _never!"_ Kensei bursts out, fists clenched tight at his sides. "Those were my men, good men who-" He stops, realizing that he can't remember enough of last night to honestly deny the accusation.

"No, but a Hollow would. And Tousen would be the only witness," Shinji explains. Although his tone is patient, Shinji looks as if he can barely force himself to stand still. "The point is that we ain't got nothin' on Aizen and he's got everythin' on us."

"So we kill 'im," Hiyori says acidly. "Kill 'im an' kill Tousen an' kill Ichimaru deader than dead." It's the simplest solution, one that Kensei finds himself leaning towards as well. He  _trusted_ Tousen, all his unit did, and what Tousen has done is unforgivable (here his thoughts stutter through a series of curses because there are no words in any language for what Tousen has done, but they all center on 'traitor' and he is content to end that thought with a stream of ragebetrayalpaindie.) _  
_

Lisa, ever logical, is quick to point out the flaw in that reasoning. "And get locked up for being murderers instead of- of monsters?" She shakes her head so hard that Kensei thinks her glasses will fall off, and sure enough she pushes them back up her nose a second later. "Besides, you heard Shinji. Tousen has a damn strong Bankai, Ichimaru's gotta be packing if Aizen wants him on his side, and Aizen's got illusions without any apparent weaknesses. Go after them and we could find out that we've been slaughtering our families the whole time."

"What, so we should just not try?" Hiyori demands, scowling. "Just- just  _let_ him get away with backstabbing us and turning us into  _Hollows?!_ I don't think so!"

"There's a perfectly civilized way to go about this, Sarugaki-san," Rose says, blinking mildly at her. "We just need to find evidence and a way to clear ourselves from any Hollow influence. Then the law can do with him as they please, which I expect will be  _most_ unpleasant." The slight smile on his face twitches, as if in anticipation. Kensei always knew there was a reason he couldn't bring himself to call Rose a pansy-ass wannabe Fourthie like he refers to the rest of the Third.

Shinji's shit-eating grin finally returns, but it's different, flat and hard and tight. "Yeah. That's how it's going to be, alright?" He directs his pointed look at Hiyori and Kensei particularly, but it isn't necessary in the latter case. In the space of a second, Kensei finds his opinion—that Aizen's lot should be brutalized and their corpses left to rot in Inuzuri right this instant—shifting towards Shinji's position. In his head he still wants to go apeshit on Tousen, but something in his heart agrees for no reason that Kensei can tell, as if obligated. _No! They deserve to die!_ He argues with himself, but the misgivings remain.

Somehow they manage to work out something resembling a cover story, in which a Vasto Lorde-class natural Arrancar with reiatsu-masking abilities and venom _—_ Hiyori complains that that's too much to remember, but Urahara insists that it has to be plausibly challenging _—_ and its pack ambushed the eight of them. Urahara and Tessai, of course, are set up as the brave rescuers who finished the Hollows off and repaired their wounded colleagues. Kensei makes a note to himself to make a show of gratitude.

"As long as nobody looks too close, I should think your secret will be very much safe," Urahara says cheerily. "Now, let's get tidied-"

He is interrupted by a thump on the door, followed by a bellowed, "Hey, Kisuke! There's a meeting, come on!"

It's Shihouin Yoruichi, of course, who's standing there when Urahara cautiously opens the door, golden eyes bright and smile brighter. The Onmitsukido commander's eyes widen slightly when she sees the eight captains and vice captains with various levels of clothing damage and blood stains trying to compose themselves.

Kensei privately reminds himself to thank Urahara some time when the enigmatic man rubs the nape of his neck and the goofy smile returns to his face. If there's anyone who can pull off the pretense of harmlessness, it's him.

And if there's anyone who can utterly shatter a pretense of harmlessness, it's Yoruichi. She hops into the room, light as a cat, flashing a quick wave at everyone present.  _Damn,_ Kensei thinks as he looks at the noblewoman standing there in the morning light. The Shihouin  _naishinnou*_  is utterly out of reach for a Rukon-born miller's son like Kensei, but her bold beauty is evident to anyone with eyes. In any event his tastes lean more towards delicate women _—_ really, anyone who is unlikely to go from warm and friendly to cold and calculating on a dime. He is privately thankful to work with such reliable people _-_

With such a reliable person. All the people who really were reliable are dead, except for Mashiro—and if you ask Urahara, she isn't exactly Mashiro anymore. Kensei keeps forgetting that he doesn't have Eishima to run kata with, or Toudou to bitch with after a grueling mission... there's no more 'with.' He'll have to find people to replace them—some seventh seat over in the Eleventh caused a ruckus just last week, maybe he'll do.

"You had a sleepover, huh? You should've invited me, Kisuke. You know how much fun I am at sleepovers." Yoruichi teases at last, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Urahara ducks his head mock-bashfully, having the grace to blush slightly. "Oh, I know. It just slipped my mind, that's all."

"I'm sure." Yoruichi replies, serious suddenly. "What happened? Kyouraku's frantic, and Yamamoto's furious that some of his captains and lieutenants have gone missing. I had to organize search parties, Kisuke! All Soul Society's in an uproar!"

Urahara's head jerks up, the picture of confusion and worry. Flawlessly, he rattles off the cover story, occasionally peppering it with hand gestures and subtle signals for someone to add a comment in here and there.

When he's finished, the Second Division's captain sighs, rubbing her temples and shaking her head exasperatedly.

"Kisuke, Kisuke, Kisuke. I'd hoped your division would've trained you out of that habit by now." Yoruichi pretends to examine her nails, which are filed to points and lacquered with something dark and probably poisonous. "Lying on such a pretty day, too... don't you have any shame?"

Cue nine captains and lieutenants, as well as one Kido Chief, gaping at Yoruichi.

Rose recovers first, composing himself as always. "Oh? What gave it away, Shihoin-dono?" He asks.

Yoruichi gives him a sidelong glance. "I've known this idiot for years. He can't hide all his tells from me, and he can't do anything about other people's carelessness. There're eight Hollow masks sitting on the floor, sized for human faces, and I bet if I tested the blood on them, it would match perfectly to the blood on your faces. Those're the obvious clues, anyway. Start talking, Kisuke."

All at once, the carefree mask drops again. "The short version is that Aizen Sousuke used an inferior version of one of my inventions and his own remarkable power to turn them into Hollows, and I managed to reverse it...partially. He's got Ichimaru Gin, Tosen Kaname, and an unknown man as accomplices, and we don't have any evidence against him except the victims and aren't likely to find any because his Zanpakuto creates perfect illusions, according to Hirako-san."

"I told you to call me Shinji, moron," the captain of the Fifth mutters indignantly.

Elegant brows snap together in a frown that doesn't suit Yoruichi's beautiful face at all. "Wrong. Aizen can't create perfect illusions, not if he doesn't know the basics behind what he has to imitate. And Ichimaru is tricky, but he can't be in two places at one time, which means no alibi, unlike Aizen and Tousen." Her smile makes Kensei want to reach for Tachikaze, sharp-edged and making no attempt to hide her intention of bringing pain to Aizen. "If that bookworm brat thinks he knows more about being untraceable than someone whose career is founded on stealth, he's got another think coming."

Ice water pools in Kensei's stomach at the word 'career.'  _My career. If anyone finds out about this... they'll say there can't be a demon captain. And then- Fuujin and Bishamonten**, they'll send the Onmitsukidou for my family. Shinji and Urahara are right—no one can know about this._

Yoruichi's smile brightens again, 'Onmitsukidou empress' persona vanishing. "Well, I'll get on that, but in the meantime, Yamamoto-jii-san's about to hit the roof if you all don't turn up for his emergency meeting. Go take a shower, 'cause no offense, but I'm the only person in this room who doesn't smell like they spent the night in Hueco Mundo. Urahara, go get them some shihakushou. And Ōtoribashi, you'd better hop to if you want to get all that dirt out of your—oh wait, it's moving, those are bugs."

Rose flees at top speed, dragging Urahara along with him. Shrugging, Kensei follows with Mashiro in tow. The Captain-Commander in a bad mood was nothing to sneeze at, and Kensei really doesn't want to make whatever punishment he got worse.

* * *

 

Kensei discovers a deep, passionate hatred for the painfully bright sun when he finally left the Twelfth Division, water droplets still clinging to his skin and plastering his hair to his head. Showering had become his new least favorite activity, not-quite-healed wounds from those rods in his back burning at every touch. Urahara, despite his advanced technology, still preferred communal baths. Showers were in case of spilled experiments and were colder than his Hollow mask.

 _The_ Hollow mask, he reminds himself. It isn't his, and that is the last time he will let himself so much as think of it. He is not a Hollow, the only thing that attacked anyone was a Vasto Lorde-class natural Arrancar, and all Urahara did was heal his wounds.

When he makes it to the joint captain-lieutenant meeting hall, Kensei is assaulted by the wash of relief from his colleagues, Shunsui especially. A moment later, the relief is drowned out by Yamamoto's spirit pressure, foreboding like a storm on the horizon. Kensei cringes, frantically offering up prayers to Fuujin, Bishamonten, the village god of his youth, Kannon***—any kami that might be listening, really.  _Can they tell what Tousen did?_

Apparently not, as Yamamoto simply demands that the eight explain themselves and give a full report instead of demanding that Yoruichi arrest them. Kannon must be smiling on him today, as miraculously the story gets told without any obvious contradictions. Kensei makes a mental note to pay a visit to her shrine when he has the time.

The rest of the day is a mess of paperwork, reports, and questioning. Kannon's favor remains, and Kensei is able to fill out the report for Mashiro, since the Gotei 13 is tired of finding paperwork filled out in crayon and stained with suspiciously sweet-smelling sticky marks. Urahara doesn't even have to ask to fill out a report for Hiyori, who maintains a legendary dislike for paperwork and was banned from it after one too many papers were found defaced.

So far, the bases are covered. It's only a matter of figuring out exactly how long they can keep on the masks hiding their masks...


	2. Other Faces Beneath The Masks

Hachi is the first one to notice that they might not be out of the clear. He supposes that it's fitting that he be the first one to see the stirrings of an inner monster, being so attuned.

Already he's thinking of the transformed Shinigami as composing a group. If he is completely honest with himself, Hachi would say that he considers them a family. No, something that resembles a family, but isn't. A pack. Perhaps, Hachi thinks, that too is a sign of the change. Before he would never have raised himself to the level of captains, but their shared secret binds the eight together and forges ties that he would be hard-pressed to explain.

The first inkling of trouble comes only a week after the Hollowfication, when Hachi is assigned to oversee the investigation into inexplicable Garganta. The Kido Corps are in charge of the senkaimonthat bridge worlds, so it's only natural that they notice when energy starts registering from doors that do not go where they should be going. No one goes to Hueco Mundo, save for a unit that failed to return a few centuries back. He ignores the worry that settles in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight as he reads the mission parameters. It is hardly different from senkaimon maintenance, nothing strenuous.

It is just before midday when his chosen handful of veiled Shinigami set out through the wilderness of Rukongai, a carefully applied Bakudou muting their spirit power—and spirit sense, conversely. It is yet another application of the first tenet of the Kidou Corps, _'those who master the secrets of the arcane must themselves become arcane.'_ Hachi has never agreed with the interpretation of absolute secrecy, but its results are enough to make up for the clash of beliefs. Forbidden Kidou, Bakudou, Hado, Kaidou*, all are kept deep within the Kidou Corps' citadel, where Hachi may study to his heart's content secrets the uninitiated could only dream of.

Hachi doesn't struggle to keep up for once, leading the band deliberately and quietly through the underbrush. A trail of Kidou spread behind them cloaks their trail from trackers. The Onmitsukidou aren't permitted to spy on the workings of the Kidou Corps, but that doesn't mean they aren't trying, so it's become standard protocol to make it that much harder for them to do.

Soon enough the unit arrives at the place where the dark reiryoku was detected. Hachi blinks at the sudden influx of bright sunlight, shading his eyes. Is it his imagination, or has the sun been unusually strong recently?  _No,_ Hachi realizes.  _It's my eyes that have become less able to handle bright light. An aftereffect of Captain Urahara's technology?_ He dismisses the thought. If Urahara said that he had healed them, he had.

The unit members fan out around the small clearing, already beginning the chanting and weaving of reiryokuthat was Kidou. Hachi watches them, examining their workings with his spirit sense and catching the mistakes each made in their incantations and execution of the spells. Finally one flash-steps over to him, looking winded already from the action despite the short distance. 

Hachi blinks down at her. "Yes, Kagurazaki-san?" He asks, hoping for conclusive results. This is the third time this week that he has journeyed through Rukongai in search of Garganta, and it would be rather disappointing if this case turned out to be inconclusive like the rest.

She bows from the waist. "We have isolated some of the trace Hollow reiryoku and applied Kidou to a few tubes to contain it for later analysis. However, there appear to be a few points in which the rest of the trace reiryokuis collecting, similar to a vortex. It might be best if you were to further examine these." She glances up at him dully, clearly bored. To be fair, touching Hollow power with Shinigami power for a prolonged period of time was uncomfortable at best and made the Shinigami want to scrub every inch of their skin at worst.

Hachi represses a sigh of irritation, knowing that it would not be productive to show it. He follows the tiny woman over to a pear-shaped rock, where his subordinates are laying down a net of Kido that shows a purplish-black bundle of power, similarly colored strands trailing towards its center.

Hachi frowns at the mass of reiryoku, already murmuring the words for a few techniques and stretching out with his powertentatively, withdrawing as soon as he touches it. There is no question about this power that suggests bone-white sands and endless night. It is that of Hueco Mundo.

That is when he hears a slow hissing, unmistakably that of a living being and almost comically deep. But it is not  _quite_ comically deep, and that sends every hair on the Kido Corps' lieutenant's body standing on end. Something is violently wrong here.

 **"Home..."** it whispers, the sound acidic.  **"Take me...home."**

Hachi jerks, eyes scanning his surroundings. Could a Hollow have come through from its blood-soaked home?

"That sound... please be on guard," he orders.

One of the men's eyebrows raise slightly in confusion. "I didn't hear anything," he replies.

Worry and confusion surge in the giant man immediately, squashed down immediately with a calm expression. "Ah, it must have been the wind. Or perhaps an old man's ears deceiving him," Hachi attempts to make a joke, and despite the lack of laughter it does loosen them up. He isn't an old man by Shinigami standards, and the suggestion is one of the oldest jokes in Soul Society's collective book. Only Yamamoto and Unohana are genuinely old, and only Yamamoto shows it.

After that, they return at a faster pace. Hachi needs to speak with Urahara, and wasted time is not something that he is sure if he can afford. He leaves the Kidou analysis and subsequent distillation of the samples to a few Kidou Corps members with nothing better to do, seeking out the resident mad scientist. Of course, Kurotsuchi Mayuri may well overtake him in the 'mad' aspect of the title. The man is what can only be described as a freakshow and a rather amoral one at that.

When Hachi enters, ducking to avoid scraping his head on the doorframe, Urahara is there overseeing his squad members and mixing a concoction of his own. The wide smile on his face broadens and dims simultaneously as he spots the rarely-seen man. A man of contradictions, indeed.

"Ah, Ushouda-san!" He cries. "Tessai told me that you might be arriving to discuss the Garganta problems. Please, follow me." The blond leads him through the headquarters, passing by a few tanks full of sickly green liquid and shadowy figures. Hachi hopes that they contain gigai. They arrive in his office, where Hiyori stands picking at her bitten nails.

"Sarugaki-san, I thought you were helping out Third Seat Kurotsuchi with the filing of notes from his most recent experiment," Urahara says mildly, receiving a jump-kick for his troubles.

"It's boring!" She barks. "I'm not doin' some stupid little chore like that, good-for-nothing!"

The Twelfth Squad's captain pinches his nose, fumbling for a tissue box on his desk before simply settling for his sleeve. "Sorry, sorry, I thought you didn't want to work with chemicals," he apologizes with a typical goofy smile.

"I don't! Let me go fight someone! It's borin' in this stuffy little lab!" She snaps, pointing at Hachi. "What's he doin' here?"

Hachi bows to her. "Nice to see you again, Lieutenant Sarugaki. I needed to speak with Captain Urahara and he thought it better to conduct the conversation here."

The pigtailed girl snorts. "Don't see what you'd need with this baldy, but go ahead."

Hachi inclines his head and turns to Urahara. "If you don't mind, Captain Urahara, I would prefer that this conversation be as private as possible."

Urahara's smile drops, apparently having hoped that Hachi really had come on Kidou Corps business. "That can be arranged." He taps away at a small tablet on his desk, looking back up when he finishes.

"All set, Hachigen-san. Fire away." The blond leans back against his desk.

"It concerns the events of the cross-division mission recently," Hachi replies after a moment. "I was investigating a reported Garganta and heard what sounded like hissing when I attempted to examine trace power left behind. A voice, as well, though not my Zanpakuto's. It expressed a desire to go home. My subordinates heard nothing." Now he permits a frown to cross his face, away from public sight.

A frown crosses Urahara's face as well. "Interesting. I believe I might have the explanation, if not the solution." He toys with his sleeves. "I've already told you that my current technology can't do anything about the remaining Hollowfication in your soul. Now, if it was a normal illness, I would say that you simply had a flare-up and advise you to steer clear of Hollows as much as you can. Since it isn't... Captain Muguruma would not have attacked if his body had been the only thing changed, but it would seem that he has no memory of that night's events, which would suggest that the Hollowfication didn't simply alter his mind. The only plausible explanation I have that satisfies both conditions is that something else was in control of that form."

"An inner Hollow," Hachi murmurs, fingers twitching and linking as he runs through a few hand seals. Kidou required such complicated manipulation of reiryoku that drawings, seals, and bizarre chants that couldn't possibly be associated with anything but a specific spell were often employed as foci, making it easy to slip into the casting mindset. Doing so now lent Hachi the calm he needed to think through the implications of Urahara's words.

"Exactly. It's only a theory, but I believe that if this inner Hollow exists, it's something like scar tissue for your souls." Urahara's storm-grey eyes flick over to Hiyori, who is rubbing her chest as if soothing a wound there. "Whatever Aizen used to Hollowfy you took effect after you were injured. I think the catalyst entered your soul and destroyed part of it, then released a large amount of Hollow reiryoku."

"That's reiryoku poisoning, dumbass," Hiyori snaps unexpectedly. At the stares Hachi and Urahara turn on her, the short lieutenant reddens. "I had it in my sixth year at Shin'o, alright? It's not hard to cure if you know what you're doin', doesn't even leave a mark."

Urahara sighs. "You didn't let me finish, Sarugaki-san. Even if the catalyst hadn't destroyed more than reiryoku poisoning usually does and released so much more Hollow power than normal, something in it took out your soul's immune system. By the time we could do anything, there was a gaping wound in your soul, and the Hougyoku could only stop the bleeding, to continue that metaphor. Think of it as bandages—able to stop your life from draining out, but unable to fight the infection within the wound. Your soul did the only thing it could and sealed off the infected part, only for Hollowfication to corrupt it. This isn't reiryoku poisoning, not at all."

Hachi sucks in a breath. His fingers are twitching, linking, and pulling apart in lightning-fast combinations. "Infections spread," he says at last. "So our goal is to remove the infected parts. Kidou may be the solution after all, to flush out the infected areas with healthy reiryoku. Taidou, or even Bakudou if stretched."

"I wonder if you wouldn't have made a competent lieutenant to the Fourth, Hachigen-san," Urahara replies, fanning himself with a sheaf of papers from his desk. "We'll have to compare notes to solve this problem, I think. Sarugaki-san, anything to add?"

"No," she growls, scuffing her toes on the worn floorboards. " _I_ think you're both outta yer minds. I'm not hearin' any voices, and I'm not infected with some damn 'inner Hollow.'

They finish up the conversation with a few pleasantries, though the pleasant aspect of it is mostly fulfilled by Urahara and Hachi. He leaves with a few seeds of trouble beginning to grow in his heart.

As Hachi returns to the Kido Corps' headquarters, he has the feeling that these next few months will be very unpleasant for the new hybrids.

Very unpleasant indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kaidou is apparently the name for healing Kidou. This not being common knowledge, I decided to put in a note about it.


	3. Masks Starting to Slip

It's a little bit awkward, working with Aizen. Having your colleague essentially melt your face off, cut you down, and watching him turn you and your friends into psychotic monsters just doesn't endear you to a person.

Nevertheless, Hirako Shinji is a good actor, and it's not so hard for him to pretend to have no recollection of that night's actual events. Maybe Aizen meant for the eight to forget who caused their transformation. Or maybe he just knows that he's untouchable, that worthless bastard.

Whatever the reason, the two men manage to have conversations perfectly normally and do paperwork perfectly normally. As normal as ever, anyway. Shinji knew  _something_ was up with Aizen even before he attained his position, just not that that  _something_ was insane power levels and utter psychopathy. It's no small wonder that Aizen could fool a master of deception.

A constant smile and lazy demeanor put most everyone at ease around Shinji. The rest of them see the casual behavior and know that captains don't get to be where they are without being strong and competent enough to handle it. Those ones keep their wary distance. Sure, Shinji could use proper Japanese and catch Hiyori's many attacks, but it's so much more fun to see people operate on their assumption that he's not a threat and then break that illusion. If only he could break Aizen's actual illusions.

As usual, Aizen knocks softly on Shinji's door in the morning to wake him up for a captains' meeting. Shinji calls for him to come in amidst the languid rhythm of his jazz records, and, also as usual, Aizen finds Shinji flopped on his bed, already dressed but lying there simply for the pleasure of listening to his music.

"Captain Hirako, your presence is required at the First Division with the other captains, I'm afraid." Like hell he's afraid. The man can pull off a high-level Kidou without incantation and has the power of absolute illusions. He has nothing to be afraid of.

The captain in question rolls over, sitting up and flapping his hand at Aizen. "Eh, y'know they don't expect me to be on time. I've still got a few minutes," Shinji replies, brushing a strand of golden hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry to say that I gave you those minutes, Captain Hirako. You may be late as it is," Aizen says firmly. "Unless Captain Kyouraku has invited you drinking the previous night, the captain-commander won't be lenient."

The blond sighs, standing up and attaching his Zanpakuto to his belt. "I know, I know. The old man never is." And Shinji knows better than anyone else how unforgiving Yamamoto is, thanks to Aizen. Shinji brushes past his lieutenant easily, grabbing his haorion the way out and pulling it on.

"Do th' paperwork that comes in, 'kay? See if you can run everyone through a coupla trainin' exercises too," he calls over his shoulder, flash-stepping away to the First Division before a response can be given.

As soon as he's there, though, Hiyori's waiting for him to deliver her infamous jump-kick to the face. Some things never change, at least.

Clutching a bloody nose, Shinji chokes out, "What was that for, ya midget? Yer not even invited to the meeting! It's for captains, not violent pipsqueaks!"

"I'm still growin', baldy!" Said pipsqueak bellows. She might have tried something else if not for the arrival of the Tenth Squad's captain, or at least the man standing in for him today. Shinji supposes that they're lucky that Shiba Isshin bothered to send someone in his place at all.

"My apologies for the interruption, Lieutenant Sarugaki, Captain Hirako, but extenuating circumstances have made me a bit later than I'd like and I need to pass," the deep, smooth voice of the Tenth Divison's fourth seat Kojima Masaaki says. It's far too close to Aizen's voice for the blond's comfort, but they aren't the same person and he forces himself to remember that each time they meet.

Shinji wipes some blood away from his upper lip and turns to him. "Sorry 'bout her, Kojima-san. Not everyone can have a pretty little lieutenant like yours, y'know." He's referring to Matsumoto Rangiku, of course, Masaaki's superior.

The black-maned man smiles. "And I'm very lucky to have her, as Urahara-san is to have Sarugaki-san as his lieutenant."

"Stop tryin' to butter me up, Smiley!" He receives a kick to the face for his troubles. "That idiot's too stupid to be a captain, and the only reason he's got me to make him less stupid is 'cause the old man thought he'd make that screw-up captain based on the werecat's recommendation after Hikifune left!"

"Ow..." Masaaki murmurs, flat on his back, before clambering to his feet and resuming his smile. "Nice as ever to see you both," he says, raising a hand in farewell as he brushes past.

The blond sighs, attempting to follow him only to be blocked by Hiyori standing directly in his path. "Hey, I'm not just hangin' around here for giggles, y'know. Urahara wanted to know if you'd been hearin' voices. Up in here," she adds, tapping the side of her head.

Shinji blinks at her.  _Voices?_ Perfect, just perfect. He'd long-ago come to enjoy Sakanade's observations in his mind, but a new voice must mean a Hollow in his skull. Shinji had already begun to wonder about aftereffects. You didn't just switch species twice in a few hours and expect to be the same as before, after all.

 **"Think ya know everythin', do ya, king?"** A soft, scratchy voice whispers.  **"Just ya wait. Soon you'll be the one whisperin' ineffectually."**

And just like that, the cold, slimy presence in Shinji's mind is gone, leaving him blinking rapidly at Hiyori, who's waving her hand in front of his face.

"Hey! Dickhead Shinji! I asked ya a question, answer it!" She shouts.

He shoves her hand away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Didn't really notice anythin' 'til ya mentioned it, but he was speakin' just now. Lemme pass, midget."

Either Hiyori has been taking anger management classes, or she's too uneasy to do anything about his comment, because she just seethes and steps aside. Shinji'd bet on the latter, if the faintly troubled look that she hides quickly is anything to go by.

When Shinji finally makes it to the meeting hall, even Urahara is there already. Polite as ever, Ukitake and Kojima give him a nod as Kensei just grunts in acknowledgement.

"Captain Hirako, do you have an explanation for your utter disregard of timeliness?" Yamamoto asks severely.

Shinji rubs the nape of his neck as he takes his place. "Well, ya see, Lieutenant Sarugaki," he says, having the sense to use her title in front of Yamamoto, "ambushed me when I was tryin' to get in here. Sad, really. Somebody should teach her her place."

He could swear that he hears the venerable Shinigami sigh slightly. "Captain Urahara, it is expected that you at least make a show of trying to control your lieutenant. Do so in the future."

The captain in question ducks his head in acknowledgement. "Sorry, Captain-Commander. It won't happen again."

Yamamoto rumbles in assent. "Onto our orders of business."

After that the old man rambles on about the necessity of Shikai training in the Shin'o Academy, something about not enough officers having power levels appropriate for Shinigami, calling for a vote on implementing that policy. Naturally, Shinji tunes it out in favor of trying to figure out just what to do about Aizen.

He aches to just kill the traitor. But Aizen's too crafty to be without a defense, a very strong one if Urahara's assessment was correct. And Shinji is fairly certain that regardless of his own position, killing a lieutenant would attract suspicion and with enough prying, there'd be a Soukyoku barbecue held with Shinji as the main course.

But the Hollow he thought was gone apparently stuck around. If its promise is to be believed, Shinji's going to be in quite the bind pretty soon. He has to make sure Aizen sees justice before then.

Could Shinji plant evidence on Aizen? Unlikely. If Shinji was Aizen, he'd just create an illusion to hide the evidence. And who knows what Aizen would do in retaliation? Tell everyone what really happened to Shinji? Frame Urahara and Tsukabishi? Shinji doesn't really want to know what a mind that would think of turning Shinigami into Hollows would come up with.

Shinji sets the matter aside for later when the vote comes his way. Of course the new Kenpachi, who's shown up for once, votes in favor. As he puts it, "These guys are weaklings. We need more fighters." Not eloquent, but Eleventh Division members rarely are, save for that pretty boy who joined up. Kyouraku, Rose, Love, Yoruichi, and Shinji himself vote with Kenpachi and the captain-commander for a majority, which seals the deal.

Strolling out of the First Division headquarters later, chatting with Kyouraku, the blond is happy enough to fill the air with idle talk as he puzzles out his new situation in the back of his mind.

Sometimes he gets the feeling that the sake-loving captain is doing the same thing, observing the world with a coldly clinical eye internally while spinning a web of honeyed words and flowers around himself. Shunsui hasn't been a captain for so long simply by virtue of his invincible liver and charismatic grin, after all. Every one of these people could get very dangerous.

Shinji decides to go for a walk around Seireitei that day. Let Aizen do the paperwork, it's like sake for Kyouraku compared to what he deserves.

As Shinji moves through Seireitei's streets, he wonders vaguely what would happen if he announced, right there, that his universally beloved lieutenant had transformed eight captains and lieutenants into a combination of man and monster. Would they laugh it off as a prank from that trickster Captain Hirako? Would they do as every Shinigami has been trained and attack him? Would they call him crazy and stick him in the Maggot's Nest?

Well, it doesn't matter, because he wouldn't announce that.

 **"Scared o' me, king?"** That voice crawls through his head again.  **"How unprofessional. I'd end up havin' to take over your sorry skin and beat 'em all up when you couldn't handle a few worms."**

 _Take over?_ The blond thinks in response. May as well try to negotiate with the Hollow, if he can't get rid of it.

 **"Negotiate? Nice try, king, but that's not how it works. I'm gonna get stronger, and get closer to you, and no matter what you do, I'm gonna take control and make** ** _you_** **the prisoner!"**  It whisper-howls, presence starting to weaken already.  **"Don't...forget."**

Shinji curses beneath his breath, prompting a startled and confused look from the Fourth Division member sweeping the street. So the inner Hollow plans to lock him up in his own soul, huh? Not if he can help it. At this stage, he can't fight it, though. It's like trying to cut fog: too nebulous and disparate to have any effect.

As the blond rounds the corner, an itch in the back of his throat overtakes him, and he coughs to get rid of it. But one thing leads to another, and soon it feels as if he's got a glob of molten glass stuck back there. Shinji hacks, body spasming as the stubborn irritant refuses to leave, finally slamming a fist into his chest and prompting a grayish-white blob of  _something_ to come flying out.

Shinji stares at it for a second, gears turning in his head.  _The hell is that?_ He wonders before it clicks. That's the same stuff that burst from his mouth and eyes and grafted itself to his face, faintly oozing Hollow reiatsu. Molten bone, essentially. Shinji has the sinking feeling that he's going to be seeing a lot of that soon.

"Captain Hirako!" A voice calls, and he looks up to see a beefy-looking man hurrying towards him. It's one of the Fourth Division members, the one who doesn't look anything like he should be Fourth Division, Aono Kohaku. "Captain, are you okay? Do you need medical attention?"

Shinji quickly steps forward to put the blob behind him. Doesn't take Urahara to figure out what the stuff is, and then it could be bye-bye-Captain-Hirako.

He holds up a hand. "Nah, I'm good. Just a cold or somethin'." Shinji yawns, displaying his prominent teeth. "I'll get over it on my own, yeah?"

Aono nods, backing off and returning to his job. "Alright, if you're really okay, Captain. Sounded like you were trying to get rid of a lung there."

Shinji shrugs. "Think I still got it." He flashes a smile at the man, turning and leaving without a goodbye. The reishi glob has, to his surprise, dissipated. _Kisuke needs to hear about this._

After Shinji's related his experience to Urahara, he can see the 'I'm filing this away for future reference' expression flit over Urahara's face.

"Troublesome as ever, Hirako-san," The man says cheerfully, back to the hybrid as he reads through a lab report. "First Hachigen-san, now you. He was the first one to start hearing voices, you know. Or maybe you don't; I forget so often what I tell people or don't."

"Cut the crap, Urahara. He wants out soon," Shinji says bluntly. "I dunno how long it's gonna take, but you're the only non-psychopath in Soul Society who's got the brains to figure out something before that happens." Though sometimes he has his suspicions about Urahara's mental state... "I can hold it off, stall, but this ain't exactly my area of expertise." He shudders. "Ya got no clue what it's like. I want this thing  _out._ "

Urahara turns around, setting the papers down on his desk and showing Shinji a deadly serious face. "I don't know what it's like, you're right, Hirako-san, but I've told you that there isn't much I can do. I'm working on a residual reiatsupurifier that'll make sure that the Hollow reiatsu leaking off of you and the others won't tip anyone off or make them needlessly uneasy. Muguruma-san's already been having issues with a few unseated officers fainting out of fear."

He sighs, and suddenly Shinji sees the drawn, tired expression on Urahara's face, his shoulders slumping as if they're carrying the world. Maybe he is. Aizen can't just be stopping with the Hollowfication of a few captains and lieutenants. He isn't that kind of person and Urahara is the only person who's ever been able to match him. As carefree as Kisuke acts, it must be killing him to be able to do nothing about this. Doesn't help Shinji and his fellow Hollowfication victims any, though.

"That's all I can do for now, Hirako-san. I'll keep trying, but most of this is up to you and the others now. I'm so sorry, I really am. If I hadn't sent Hiyori..." He trails off.

"No use worryin' about what might've been, Urahara. We can only deal with what is," Shinji says, not without a trace of bitterness. "We'll try too. Try to keep from becomin' monsters." Shinji turns to go, straightening his shoulders and putting the smile back on his face. A mask to hide his mask. "G'night."

As he leaves, he can swear that he hears the head of the Research and Development Bureau sitting down heavily behind his desk and starting to cry.

He doesn't think he's ever known Urahara to cry.


	4. Trying to Wear Inner Masks

Mashiro doesn't really understand why Kensei's been even grumpier than normal for the past month. Sure, the new voice inside her head can be a little bit mean sometimes, but that doesn't mean she can't try to get along with it. Maybe his voice is a meany all the time.

That must be it, she decides. Otherwise he wouldn't visit Urahara all the time and come back with a scowl so fierce that it sends members of the Ninth scurrying out of his way almost as fast as Yoruichi's flash-step.

Today's a sunny day, perfect for Mashiro's regular trip to her favorite sweet shop in the Rukongai. It isn't high-end, but they make excellent bean buns and better mochi. Occasionally she sees the Eleventh's new lieutenant around. Those days she's forced to return empty-handed, sweet tooth outmatched. Even if lately Mashiro's been craving savory things. Savory meats. Okay, just meat, raw and dripping.

Luckily, there's no sign of the pink-haired child on this particular excursion. Mashiro skips out of the shop in a blissful mood, carrying a few baskets of treats for later. Mashiro even remembers to grab a package of their Seireitei-themed buns. This one's Ninth Division-themed, with a big silver-iced bun with sixty-nine marked in Western numbers on its front next to a small green-iced one with little frosted glasses perched on top. She giggles at seeing bun-Kensei somehow radiating grumpiness just like the real thing.

Is life really so different from before Aizen stabbed them? Mashiro doesn't think so. She still has to fill out the same boring paperwork and go to the same boring meetings. Everybody treats her the same. Even if, like Kensei says, they do that because they don't know. But really, she doesn't think life's any different.

Or at least, she doesn't think so until she shoves open the doors of the Ninth Division, waving at a few Shinigami, and promptly vomits her guts out onto the pavement.

Mashiro is kneeling on the ground before a division member can get to her, heaving up her breakfast and every sweet she ate on the way back. A calloused hand seizes her scarf, another yanking her hair out of the way. Doesn't feel like Kensei, some part of her thinks as she plants her palms on the ground to keep from collapsing. Too small.

Finally it's little more than black bile, burning her throat. Mashiro's sides heave like she'd run the whole way.

 **"That's what you get, scrawny Shinigami. I'm going to beat you and take my freedom,"**  a strangled, buzzing voice chokes out. A Hollow.  **"Just you wait, bitch."**

Blessedly, only Mashiro notices when she struggles to her feet, legs wobbling, that there are tendrils of white within the vomit. Everyone is too focused on the minor detail of their lieutenant suddenly attempting to rid her body of her intestines through her mouth to notice.

The tight grip on her hair and scarf releases. Mashiro turns to look down at an unfamiliar boy, clearly the owner of the helping hands. Undisguised disgust is written on his face, sun-browned and framed by scruffy grey hair.

"I don't have a towel or somethin' on me," he remarks, voice high, "so you're just gonna have to ask someone else. Those assholes, maybe." The kid jerks his head at two rapidly approaching Shinigami. "Real great impression you're makin' fer yer new Sixth Seat, Lieutenant. See ya 'round!" he calls before disappearing into the bustle of the Ninth. Something is off about his voice, Mashiro decides as she shakes the fuzz out of her head. Not the pitch—though when his voice cracks it'll be funny—but his accent. Mashiro's traveled enough that she should be able to place his dialect, but it's like he cobbled it together. Maybe he's a traveler too, picking up bits and pieces from where he's been.

She starts to go after him—to thank him, not to bug him about his accent, she swears— before the Shinigami get to her. Stupid Shinigami. But Mashiro has to focus on them. Kensei said they can't have anyone looking too close until things settle down, so even if it's a dumb order she has to give them her normal amount of respect. Normal being a relative word with Mashiro, of course.

After she's wiped her mouth with a long sleeve, Mashiro complains, "And I enjoyed those, too! D'ya think Kensei'll let me get more 'cause I lost them?"

Any response the befuddled pair of men might've given is cut off by a firm 'no' from behind Mashiro. Speak of the wannabe-angel devil.

"You must've gotten food poisoning from that shop, moron. No way you're heading back," Kensei snaps, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the building behind them. "Get something to drink- not sake, get milk or something that's not too sweet- and go to bed. We'll let it run its course." He directs his last statement at the healers in front of him.

Mashiro whirls around to face him, nearly toppling over as she whines, "But Kensei, it was all nice and fresh, it wouldn't-" she stops as he catches her elbow to steady her with a meaningful glare. Huh. Normally she's the one making him go along with a lie.

"Look, you ate food and threw up. Seems like food poisoning to me. C'mon, woman. Get these two to take you to your room and I'll clean up here. You're my lieutenant, so I'm responsible for your messes," he grumbles.

Mashiro's almost tempted to pull a face at Kensei, but there's a certain darkness in his eyes that says it'd be a bad idea. Annoying Kensei doesn't seem like so much fun anymore, so she complies.

The Shinigami help her to her room, though when the trio is about halfway there Mashiro doesn't need the help any more. Still, Kensei might let her take a day or two off if she's sick, so Mashiro takes full advantage of it. Snagging a cup of water, she chirps goodbye to the other Shinigami and drops happily onto her futon.

Lying there, her smile does. Maybe the pervert's got a reason to be grumpy after all.

See, Mashiro's got a little theory spinning around in her head among all those thoughts of whether she can persuade Kensei to get a puppy for the squad. She wonders if Urahara's thought of it yet. Mashiro giggles at the thought that she might've come up with something before him.

She thinks that the Hollows that took each one of the eight over are distorted reflections of the Shinigami they inhabit, but they're reflections all the same. Mashiro's Hollow sounds as free-spirited as she is, if in more of a rebellious way, so Mashiro guesses with the scraps of logic that she possesses that Kensei's must be as rough and uncompromisingly aggressive as he is. Minus his restraint and protectiveness, though. Hollows have no need for restraint and nothing they want to protect. Which is a shame, because right before everything got all dark and hot-cold and stabby, she felt like she could've gone toe-to-toe with Yamamoto and walked away.

If she's right, if panic hadn't just been pouring adrenaline into her veins, the Hollows are powerful. The kind of powerful Shinigami have to deal with.

Everyone forgets about it, or pretends to forget, but every single one of the captains and lieutenants are dangerous. The only difference between one of them and a Hollow is sanity. The sanity the Hollow inside her is licking at before it gobbles it all up.

But Mashiro doesn't want any of the pain and fear, and so she shuts those thoughts out of her mind and turns back to her rose-tinted musings on sesame buns and Urahara's invention of juice with bubbles in it.

When Kensei returns from his duties to check up on his lieutenant, he finds her curled tightly on her still-made bed, fists clenched protectively above her heart. Instead of softening, Kensei's face hardens with regret and anger that he cannot afford to give voice to.

Why can't they all just go back to before this whole twisted month began?


	5. Lovely Masks

Lisa  _hates_ hiding things from Kyouraku. They're so close that it's hard for her to even surprise him with a gift of an erotic novel she caught him looking at.  She usually ends up telling her captain within a few hours of the purchase.

She just wasn't made to keep secrets. Even having more tact than Hiyori, Lisa is still more honest somehow. Lies don't slip from her lips very easily.

And yet she has to keep this secret from the man she's known and loved for decades. There are times when even the lieutenant of a division that tends to shun combat whenever possible wants to rip Aizen's throat out. Why can't they attack him? Why can't Soul Society mourn for a lieutenant and two young officers tragically found dead in their beds?

Lisa knows why they can't in her head. There isn't any evidence for his crimes, he's got insane power levels, the eight are likely to be executed if their new natures are discovered, on and on. Urahara prattled forever about it so Hiyori'd get it. But in her heart, Lisa burns with righteous anger and a desperate thirst for justice. No, not justice. Vengeance. She wants that man to _bleed._  She doesn't think of herself as an emotional person, at least not when she isn't with Kyouraku, but Aizen stirs a cauldron of hate in her heart just at the mention of his name.

Lisa thought she knew hate. She thought she knew the feeling of being unable to stand being in the same room as someone else, making biting comments for no real reason, wanting to do cruel things to a person at the slightest offense. Now she knows the truth.

Hate is acid at the back of her throat when she sees him. Hate is repressing a white-hot murderous fury beneath a cool exterior and knowing that sooner or later the fewmets are going to hit the windmill. It's the raw grief and pain when she remembers what was done to them and that no one can ever know of the agony and helplessness of that night. Hate is the tight grip on her sword that Lisa forces herself to release at hearing Aizen's name mentioned.

She's curled beneath a tree in the Eighth Division's courtyard with Kyouraku, listening to him make dirty jokes as she reads her latest novel. He plucks it out of her hands, examining the cover briefly. A slender  _kunoichi_ in a flower-print kimono kneels in front of an extraordinarily handsome samurai, tears in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks as she looks up at him beneath the title.

" _The Night Lessons of the Steel-Spun Flower,_ huh?" Kyouraku comments. "Any good, my lovely Lisa-chan?"

"I'm not your anything," Lisa retorts, snatching it back with an acid thrill of _mine, don't touch!_  "But yes, it's decent. A little tame sometimes."

Kyouraku hums in acknowledgement as he takes another sip of sake. "As long as you're wild, that book can be as tame as it likes." He teases.

She elbows him in the ribs, causing him to nearly drop his bottle.

"Aw, what was that for?" Kyouraku whines.

"For being unprofessional. And not getting all of your paperwork done the other day," his lieutenant replies. "It was a pain to go find your seal."

"Can't I make it up to you later?" Kyouraku asks, brushing a strand of hair out of his lieutenant's face.

" _Later,_ idiot," Lisa says irritably. His fingers are just so close, right there, ready to gouge her eyes out, ready to hurt and peel away the mask and-She shakes the thought out of her head, grabbing the brown-haired Shinigami's wrist and yanking his hand away from her face. "Not now."

The Eighth Division's lieutenant coughs suddenly, body spasming as more hacking coughs follow the first one. Kyouraku touches her shoulder worriedly.

"Lisa-chan? Are you okay?" he asks.

In between coughs, Lisa hoarsely replies, "Fine, stupid. Go 'way."

Stomach muscles burning as if she's just tried to do a hundred sit-ups in three seconds, Lisa finally twists to the side and deposits the contents of her stomach onto the grass. She heaves up everything she's eaten that day, bile searing her tongue and lips.

"Not so fine," she mumbles from beneath wisps of hair flecked with the vomit that accumulated there before her captain thought to grab his lieutenant's twin braids.

In the next two days, the other Shinigami-Hollow hybrids start to throw up as well, much to Kurotsuchi Mayuri's dismay when Hiyori inadvertently ruins one of his experiments. It doesn't stop there, though. The eight continue to involuntarily attempt to rid their bodies of every bit of food inside them.

The worst moment is when Lisa, eavesdropping beneath the window of the captains' meeting hall, hears an "oh, Niten's brush" from Rose, and subsequently sympathy pukes when the blond vomits onto the wooden floor. Not only does it get her chastised for spying on the meeting, Unohana's right there and wants to examine the two to make sure they don't have any contagious illness. Thankfully, Shinji manages to talk her out of it with the excuse that some bars in the Rukongai are sub-par and Rose and Lisa must have been drinking at one of them.

She wishes. Goes to a shrine about it and makes offerings for the first time in a century, even. But Lisa can't fool herself. Food tastes fine, is fine—she prepared some herself to test—but it's her body that isn't. It makes a sick kind of sense. If she's supposed to be swallowing human flesh, not fish, there's no reason she should be able to tolerate anything else.

So at Urahara's advice Lisa doesn't let Unohana examine her _._ The Hollow power she's told lies beneath her own would be a red flag so big it'd qualify as a war banner to a healer like Unohana.

No, better to try to manage the symptoms with what Urahara cooks up and their own Kido. Lisa's own power is like a child sprinkling water on a mountain to the attacks of the Hollow in her head. It has a little effect, but not enough to make a difference or truly change anything.

So she takes to repeating the same mantra again and again on a schedule so she can't forget. Every fifteen minutes for a total of 180 times a day on average. Orderly. Efficient. Plotted-out.

 _I am Lisa,_ she tells herself, perfectly detached, perfectly clinical.  _I was born in the Seireitei to Yadoumaru Xue, formerly of the Liu clan, and Yadoumaru Fumio, third in line to the Yadoumaru leadership. I am two hundred forty-nine years old as of February 3. I do not eat people. I do not kill people. I am a Shinigami. And I'm going to get better._

Falling asleep beside Kyouraku one night, she has the sinking feeling that sooner or later she won't be able to hold the shattered pieces that used to be Yadomaru Lisa together.

Sooner or later, Kyouraku's china doll is going to break for good.

**Author's Note:**

> *This term means imperial princess, which fits Yoruichi to a tee, as she's rather too irresponsible to be an empress. In the weirdly complex family tree (still in the works!) I have for the Shihoin clan, they are matriarchal, so I imagine an aunt ruling for her until she can take leadership of the clan and not just the Onmitsukidou.
> 
> **Fuujin, also called Kami-no-Kaze, is one of the elder Japanese kami. He's the god of the wind and is often depicted as being a demon/oni, fittingly for Kensei. Bishamonten is one of the Seven Lucky Gods, who is the patron of fortunate warriors and guards and punishes criminals, also fitting.
> 
> ***Kannon is a Japanese name for a Buddhist bodhisattva who governs compassion and mercy. The local god Kensei mentions would have been the patron deity of his village, as the name suggests.


End file.
